


Damaged

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen, Self-Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I'm not trying to kill myself. I'm trying to see if I'm still alive.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damaged

**Author's Note:**

> Extreme Risk is one of the most significant/relevant/meaningful episodes of Star Trek for me. I needed to write this story for me. I hope it came out all right…let me know what you think!  
> Warning: May be triggery as it makes references to self-harm.

B’Elanna leans her arms against the rail of her upper workstation, staring absentmindedly into the swirling glow of the warp core. Her crew works busily below her to prepare for an incoming transport of dilithium and despite their excitement, B’Elanna cannot muster the same enthusiasm. She feels out of sorts—she has ever since the little intervention staged by Janeway and Chakotay.

She’s not as lost as she was during those months, locked in holodecks while she tested the limits of her safety. She feels—not alive--but not so far gone that she must prove to herself that she still exists. Those remnants of despair and meaninglessness still linger, but B’Elanna struggles through them—this time without the bumps and bruises. Her dermal regenerator has been taken away. She suspects that Tom raided her quarters to remove anything that could cause bodily harm or repair any damage she may inflict upon herself, knowing that she’d be loathe to have to report to sickbay for treatment for a self-induced injury. She knows that nearly every member of the crew is keeping a silent eye on her, as if they expect that she may simply eject herself from the nearest airlock.

More than anything, B’Elanna hates feeling fragile. She hates that she wasn’t careful enough to escape the notice of the few close people in her life. She hates to admit that she needed to be caught because she fears that if she hadn’t been, she may have pushed herself too far to be pulled back.

She hears the lift come to a halt on the upper Engineering level and breaks her stare, directing her gaze at the person who has dared to interlope on her quiet moment of solitude. She’s surprised to see Seven of Nine approach, hands clasped customarily behind her back. B’Elanna’s defenses immediately mount and she straightens her back, crossing her arms over her chest as she cocks her hip against the rail.

“Can I help you?” B’Elanna asks coolly. She’s not in the mood to interact with anyone, especially not the one crew member who never fails to push all of her buttons simultaneously.

“I wish to speak with you, Lieutenant,” Seven replies. She stares at the engineer, her blue gaze easily penetrating the thick wall B’Elanna has constructed to protect herself from any show of weakness.

“So speak,” B’Elanna replies bitingly.

“You have been putting your safety at risk.” Seven pauses, considering her words. “You are damaging yourself.”

B’Elanna narrows her eyes. “How the hell do you know that?”

“I am Borg.” She offers nothing else.

“So?” B’Elanna exhales, swallowing down a surge of anger. “What I do is none of your business.”

“You are an integral part of my collective, therefore your safety is my business.”

The engineer raises an eyebrow. Integral? B’Elanna barely feels like an integral part of her own boyfriend’s life—how can she be integral to the life of an emotionless automaton whom she can barely tolerate?

Before B’Elanna can pose these questions to the Borg, Seven continues. “In the future, if you require such proof of your existence, I ask that you utilize me. I will engage in your holodeck programs with you.”

“Why?”

“To ensure your safety and produce the athletic and mental challenges that you require.”

“Did the Captain put you up to this?”

“No. The idea was my own.”

“You’re offering to be my babysitter.”

“I prefer to think of it as my offer of friendship.”

B’Elanna licks her lips and looks away. “I…” She cleared her throat. “I don’t know what to say. That’s one of the nicest things anyone has offered.”

“You don’t have to say anything. All I ask is that you consider my offer.” Seven nods at the engineer and makes her way towards the lift.

“Seven?”

The astrometrics officer pauses and turns around.

“Thanks. For giving a damn, I mean.”

Seven nods once again and this time, B’Elanna can see the sincerity in the other woman’s eyes. She steps into the lift and never takes her eyes from the engineer during her descent.

When B’Elanna is alone once more, staring again at the blue mist of the warp core, she feels a little of the tension in her shoulders begin to ease. Seven is not the first person who has offered to be there for her. She is, however, the first person who has acknowledged her feelings without judgment or anger or confusion. She’s also the first person to see the merit in pushing herself to her limits for the sake of feeling again.

Seven can’t fix everything that’s wrong, but for the first time B’Elanna begins to see that perhaps she’s not as alone as she previously thought. Despite the brevity of Seven’s words or the coolness with which they were delivered, Seven has managed to do something that no one else has: extend a hand so that B’Elanna does not have to take the risk alone.

\---


End file.
